Movin', Movin', Movin'

We start packing the moving truck tomorrow and then are driving out of here on Sunday.

I do have a few things scheduled to post in the next few days, but if I'm not here responding to you or posting anything else or viewing your blog, just give me a week and I'll be back!

Back...and warmer!

See you soon!

Too Young Not To Be Cute

Kids are only little for such a short period of time.

And I have three boys, no girls.

So, my window of opportunity to have my boys wear "cute" Halloween costumes is very small.

I figure it's pretty much over once they hit kindergarten.

But, for now, they must be something cute.

They have been cute dinos(yes, there is such a thing as a cute dino- see Wednesday's post), bunnies(Monkey's choice for him and Bear one year), giraffes, blue fuzzy monsters(again, there's such a thing as CUTE monsters), and then monkeys(yes, Monkey was a monkey).

But, when I took Monkey to his Halloween party yesterday at preschool, he was the only "cute" one there.

His class is made up of ALL boys. 12 4 year-old boys. (Yes, bless his teacher's heart!)

The Halloween party saw superheroes, swat team costumes(2 of them, actually), skeletons, a few characters that I don't really recognize other than knowing they are from sci-fi movies...and then one monkey.

Don't get me wrong, at 4, they are all cute in their costumes. I'm not saying the kids weren't cute.

But, the costumes were more grown up.

Things that could be worn in a few years with no weird looks(as long as they get bigger sizes, of course!)

There's only that small window for cuteness in a costume when you have all boys.

One of the moms commented on Monkey's costume, saying that she really wished her son had picked something like that, but he insisted on Darth Vadar and wouldn't pick anything else.

We never had that problem at my house: I bought a monkey costume and a lion costume in Monkey's size, brought them home, and told him that those were the costumes that he could pick from.

There's plenty of time for him to get his say in what he wants to be. Mommy wants to keep him little for a little bit longer.

And he loved being a monkey, anyway.

Thank You Very Much

I had some rants that I wanted to get out and then I found Kmama's Thank You Very Much Thursday, so I'm linking up and getting some of my rantings out!


To my wonderful Hubs, who keeps telling me that we need to pack, but has yet to pack a single damn thing himself. Who thinks it's fine for me to pack when he isn't here, but who sits on his butt watching tv when I am not here instead of packing. That's ever so helpful. Thank you very much.

To Kate of J&K+8, who mentioned in her question show this week that there must be something really wrong with her if she was still wearing sweatpants and t-shirts. My wardrobe and I thank you very much.

Monkey, yes, I know my eyes looks weird and gross. It's called an allergy. Stop yelling that mom is really sick right as we are going into the preschool. Thank you very much.

Bear, Mommy's hair is already a disaster. So, playing with it and hanging on it is not necessary, okay? Thank you very much.

Seriously- since I published this post, Bear came up to me and used my ponytail to wipe his snotty nose. Thank you very much.

Oh, and Hubs, once again...I appreciate you helping out with the laundry by washing loads of clothes that contain just your clothes, but if there is something in the washer, the appropriate thing to do with that is to but it in the dryer, not to throw wet clothes into a laundry basket in the basement and let them sit there and mildew. Thank you very much.

I could probably go on all day long, but our big move is this weekend and we are nowhere near packed yet. I'm sure the move will inspire a whole list of things to be thankful for.

Wordful Wednesday: Halloween Past

Playing along with Wordful Wednesday, sharing a pic from Halloween Past.

I didn't go back all that far. This is Monkey's first Halloween, 4 years ago. We didn't take him trick or treating, just to get his pics taken and then to go terrorize the halls of the elementary school where I taught until he was born.



Even though he was only 10 months old, he could RUN, so I let him run down the halls, roaring like the dinosaur he was dressed up as.



At least it was during all the classes' party time, so he wasn't really interrupting.



All the kids were jealous, though, since he was dressed up and none of them were allowed to(boo, hiss on schools that don't allow kids to dress up for Halloween- it's just FUN, so lighten up!)



Anyway, we managed to get a great shot of him in full roar, so I thought I would share this one

I have been trying to find the pic of me and an ex from Halloween 10 years ago, where I was Winnie the Pooh and he was Tigger. Full face make-up...it's hilarious seeing that tough Marine dressed up like that. Unfortunately, since we are moving this weekend, everything is in boxes and I can't find anything so I had to go with a pic that I had saved on the computer. Maybe I'll find it for next week, though.

Random Post-its

Yay for Tuesdays and post-it note day!
Click the note above and play along.


I've been busy trying to get everything packed, so my notes are random this week.

Scariest Thing

The scariest thing that has ever happened to me does not involve ghosts, goblins, or any other creature from the darkside.

It started out innocently enough.

Three moms, hanging out at a park in the middle of nowhere with their five children. Me, massively pregnant(2 weeks from giving birth to my 3rd baby) and taking care of Bear(about to turn 2) and Monkey(3.5).

Monkey was playing with his friends, while Bear happily played on the bleachers.

Lots of talk between the moms.

Suddenly...

WHERE DID BEAR GO??????

No real panic at first.

There are lots of places for him to be.

on the baseball field.

Over on the playground.

By the bathrooms.

On the football field.

Near the picnic pavillions.

Trying to get into my truck.

Somewhere.

He was right there.

We were all maybe 10 feet away from where he was playing.

None of us saw him leave.

He has to be here somewhere.

We corralled the other kids and started to call for him...a child who is almost nonverbal.

We look everywhere.

We can't see him anywhere.

Panic creeps into my voice and the baby in my belly starts frantically kicking in empathy.

A car comes down the deserted road, driving slowly.

I make a mad dash towards it. Maybe they've seen my son.

Maybe they took my son.

Oh, God, let my baby boy be okay.

Calls for him become more and more frantic.

We discover what is beyond the cluster of trees that border the park.

A rapidly rushing river.

Panic.

Bear, who has no fear of water.

Oh, dear Lord, don't let him be in the river.

Let him be okay.

Don't let me lose my little boy, 3 days before his second birthday.

Where is my Bear?

Heart, keep beating.

Baby in my belly, stay there. Mommy will calm down soon, just as soon as she finds your brother.

The world is starting to spin.

My friends, calling for me to calm down, that we will find him. Calm down, think of the baby, now is not the time to go into labor.

How could I have lost him?


I was right there, how is it possible that I didn't see him leave?

"I FOUND HIM!" comes a yell from one of the other moms.

He somehow managed to open and close the gate to the ballfield, tricking us into thinking he couldn't have gone that way. He was behind the concession stand, where we couldn't see...about 20 feet away from the rushing river.

A year and half later and my heart still pounds, thinking about that day.

I have not returned to that park since then.

Not that it is the park's fault.

But, I don't think I could return without having a panic attack from the memory.

Hypocritical

Oh, how hard this is for me to admit.

I really wish it were not true, since I don't like this about me.

I don't mean to be a hypocrite.

But, I've realized how much of one I really am.

Don't judge me, I will protest. You don't really know me.

And yet...

I hear stories about people.

Or witness things that they do.

And I judge.

I know I shouldn't.

That the tiny little glimpse that I see or hear about...

It isn't really who someone is.

That maybe I just saw them at their worst moment.

Maybe what I saw is something that they have never done before and have never done since.

Maybe it was a fluke.

Maybe I don't know the whole story.

I was sitting in church today when a woman walked past me to take her seat...and what popped into my head was oh, that's that slutty girl.

Really. Nice, huh?

Just because 2 or 3 years ago, at a moms' night out that I didn't even attend, my friends told me that she got drunk off her ass, flirted with all the guys around her, and then went home with some guy who most definitely was not her husband.

Do I know anything about what was going on in her life at that time? No, not at all.

Do I even know what is happening now? Nope.

But, I let one mistake that she made color my opinion of her.

I've done some stupid-ass stuff in my life.

And if someone were to judge me based on one of those moments, I'm sure they could come up with some charming labels for me.

I want to teach my kids not to judge.

That, unless they are actually in someone else's exact situation, they don't really know what is going on.

That they can't know how they would react in that situation.

That there could be so much going on that we don't know about.

I don't want them to judge others.

To be accountable for their own actions and to realize that everyone makes mistakes...

Mistakes that I hope don't have terrible lasting consequences and that people will not judge them by these moments of stupidity.

But, it's something that I have to work on myself.

I don't want to be a hypocrite.

Don't judge me, I will protest. You don't really know me....and I realize that I don't know you, either.

Cell phone for preschoolers????

I can't believe I actually have to do this, but here is the list of reasons WHY my four year-old can not have a cell phone yet.

And no, it's not because he is asking for one.

That answer would be simple: No, because Mommy says so.

My MOTHER is pissed at me for not letting her buy him a cell phone and doesn't understand why I don't want her to buy one for him and his 3 year-old and 17 month-old brothers.

She thinks it will be the best way for her to be able to talk to her grandchildren when her mean daughter takes them away from her by moving 600+ miles away.

And a simple "are you serious?" is not working as she thinks that I am saying no just to be mean and keep her grandchildren from talking to her.

I want to scream.

So, here I go:

1. I have a cell phone that they can talk to each other on.

2. We are on the same network, so don't even bother trying to tell me that it is because you are worried about my cell phone bill.

3. A 4 year-old can hardly be expected to be responsible for carrying a cell phone around- so it becomes one more damn thing that I have to cart around with me.

4. Since the sole purpose of this phone is for the boys to talk to their Grammy, Grammy will be pissed if her calls are not answered the second that she calls. I do not want the boys to think that a phone call is always more important than whatever it is that we are doing(eating dinner together, out playing, napping, in SCHOOL)

5. I don't want to be the parent that makes the boys' preschool have to come up with a cell phone policy.

6. It's just one more attempt by crazy Grammy to try to control us...so, no electronic leash, thankyouverymuch.

One Sweet Moment

My two oldest boys tend to beat the snot out of each other.

They hit, punch, karate-chop, kick, jump on, pinch, and even occasionally bite each other.

It doesn't even take any sort of provocation.

One can be sitting there, quietly playing and the other will attack.

Boys.

Or, rather: brothers. Since they don't do this with their friends, only with each other.

Unless there is bloodshed, I tend to let them resolve it themselves.

I can't step in every single time they do something to one another(um, except for the biting).

But, this morning, I came downstairs with Cub to find Monkey and Bear cuddled up on the couch together.

Bear, lying with his head on Monkey's shoulder.

So cute.

And then Monkey said, "I love you, Little Bear."(Bear's full name, you know)

And Bear replied, "I lub you, too, Monkey."

I wish I'd had my camera, or actually, my video camera, so that I could watch it over and over again during all the times that it appears they are trying to kill one another.

Mom of the Year

Every now and then, I do something so stupid that I feel like the worst mom ever.

This morning is an example.

I hear Bear up and playing around in the bathroom.

Look at the clock: 3am.

No freaking way, Bear, GO BACK TO BED.

Ever since he potty trained, he has been getting up about 5 or so to potty and then go back to bed.

But, 3am? No way.

About an hour later, I hear much giggling coming from the bathroom.

Bear and Monkey in the bathroom, both peeing in the potty at the same time and finding this hilarious.

Tell them both to go back to bed.

Hear much commotion from their room.

Tell Monkey to grab his stuff and come in Mommy's room so he and Bear(and Mommy) can get some more sleep.

Because no way am I getting up at 4 am.

Only when I hear Cub up and fussing in his crib, look at the clock which reads 6:30 am does it hit me.

Our power was out for a while yesterday afternoon while there was some construction going on.

It's actually 2 hours later than what my clock is telling me it is.

My boys were probably wondering what the heck was wrong with Mommy.

And had I not been so sleep deprived, I would have figured it out earlier.

I really suck sometimes.

Uh-oh

So, my cover is about to be blown.

My safe little bubble of happily spouting whatever I feel like saying without anyone who actually knows me in real life is about to pop.

Why?

Because I'm moving very soon.

And, there is someone who reads my blog occasionally who doesn't realize who I am...but that person will probably put the pieces together after she sees wait a second...she just moved and that blogger just moved to the same place...same exact time, same # of/ages of boys...wait a goshdarned second.

I wonder if I will lose a follower after that happens.

I wonder if I will be banned from said person's blog.

Because, irl, we are not friends.

Not enemies by any stretch of the imagination.

And actually, a person whom I used to consider a friend-with-potential....not someone whom I was really close with, but someone whom I thought that I could possibly be good friends with when we got to know each other better.

But, stupid stuff happens.

I didn't do anything.

She didn't do anything.

But, because we were in the same obnoxious mommy group and there was some ridiculous falling out that I still don't understand...we ended up on different sides...not that I actually picked a side, just sort of ended up where I ended up...hell, I don't even know if there really were sides.

I just know that when everything was over(whatever happened, I was clueless), I was put into the category that was not talked to any more by said blogger.

But, because I had no problems with this person and I knew of her blog, after quite a bit of time had passed, I read it, followed it, comment on it, etc.

And now, I wonder what will happen when she figures it out.

If she'll be annoyed.

Or maybe she won't care at all.

It's new for me, having someone who actually knows me read something that I write.

It makes me nervous.

All of you who blog and have your friends read what you write: you are far braver than I.

Sticky Tuesday

I've Never...MEme

5 things(more or less) that distinguish you from the crowd.

You'll have to excuse me this morning, as I was dealing with sick kids all day yesterday and then went out with a friend last night and didn't get to bed until 2am. And of course, my children couldn't respect the fact that Mommy tried to act like she was 22 again and let me sleep in.

So, all I've got is a few random things that popped in my head, no planning this time.

I've never been able to whistle.



I've never wanted to be in Times Square on New Year's Eve.



I've never watched an episode of Lost.



I've never wanted a dog.



I've never tweeted.



I've never owned a pair of Uggs/ugg-like boots.



I've never not finished the book for book club.



I've never cared whether someone chose to breast or bottle feed.



I've never put ketchup on my fries.

What to do???

All 3 of my little boys are sick.

Monkey not to the extent that the other two are, since he has some crazy-strong immune system and he's usually just the carrier of the plague, with no effect on him whatsoever.

The boys have low-grade fevers, snotty noses, and a little bit of a cough.

This is normally something I would wait out.

I'm not one to go running to the peds office every time one of my kids feels slightly off.

I would end up living there if I did that.

Plus, it seems like my kids end up catching something worse than they had originally had from the the waiting room/exam room.

So, unless it is a high fever that doesn't go away after a few days, a super high fever, or something that is making a child unrelentingly miserable, we wait it out.

But, all this talk of flu is making me very paranoid.

How do you know if what your child has is something that is severe enough to warrant a trip to the doctor?

Do you chance taking them to the doctor and then they end up catching something worse from all the germs floating around the office?

Help! How do you decide if they need to go to the doctor or if you can safely let it pass at home?

Favoring Monkey

I don't get it. (This is kind of a rambling rant this morning, as there are lots of things going on- I'm aware of this, but can't stop my brain from going in a million different directions and find one focus, so I apologize ahead of time)



I have three adorable boys.



And yet, their grandmothers all favor my oldest.



He gets more attention, more toys, more everything.

Okay, so he's the oldest.

But, it still doesn't add up.

My mother is currently having a fit about us taking her grandchildren away from her.

I'm trying to get us all packed up and moved in about 2 weeks. Hubs has an amazing job opportunity that we simply cannot pass up. My boys are so excited to live on the beach. And yet, according to my mother, this move is all about her. She keeps screaming that she wants to know what she did to make us move away, why are we punishing her, and what can she do to make us stay. All that drama is enough for several posts of its own, if it wouldn't make my head explode, trying to explain it.

Anyway, she is demanding that she get Monkey for several days before we leave.

Just Monkey.

And she'll see the other two when she picks up/drops off Monkey.

Her excuse for not wanting Bear is that she has never had him sleep over at her house and she doesn't know if he would do okay there. And that Cub is still a baby whom I should still be breastfeeding(damn- I bf him for 15 months, wtf does she want...and it's not like I'm going to start up again).

I'm okay with her not wanting to take the youngest two because she is having some medical issues that cause all of us kids to doubt Grammy's ability to take care of our kids. But, Monkey will be okay since he is 4 going on 30 and Grandpa is around.

But, to only care about seeing him?

It's such a bunch of bullshit.

She started taking him by himself when he was just 17 months old(when Bear was first born- to give me a break). So, there isn't the excuse that you can related better to a 4 year old than you can to a younger child.

What really makes me laugh is that both Bear and Cub are super-affectionate, loving children. Monkey, though, is only like that in order to get things from his grandparents, and then he has no use for them.

The whole situation irritates me so much.

Btw, I am not letting my mother take Monkey for several days. Not only am I concerned about whether or not she can physically take care of him, but I don't want her filling his head with all sorts of garbage about not wanting to move, how he should tell Mommy he wants to stay with Grammy, and how Grammy loves him best.

Though, my official excuse is that he has school, a haircut, a doctor's appointment, field trip to the pumpkin patch, church, and a birthday party all in the next week.

She can have her "chosen one" for one night before we move.

And then we'll move and I'll have mil being the one who favors Monkey.

Could you hear my scream of frustration through your computer screen?

The Need for Two

Yes, I have two blogs.

One that is my family blog, where I post pics of our daily going-ons(goings-on? goings-ons? Really, I minored in English/Language Arts) and any cute little stories about the kids.

It is my attempt to keep a record of the little things that I know I would forget. And it also allows family who live far away to be able to see my boys more frequently than I would remember to email them pics.

Plus, they can look whenever they want. So, I'm not annoying them by always sending pics...or annoying them by not sending pics enough.

But, then, one day, I posted this little story about my oldest(3 years old at the time):

I can't believe I'm actually going to post this. But, I almost fell over laughing when I heard this, so I have to record it.

Monkey was awake, lying in his bed. I went in and was talking to him for a little bit, when this gem came out. "My peepee is growing."

I managed to keep a straight face and not comment, but he wasn't done.

"When you play with peepees, they grow."

Still not commenting, still a straight face.

Until....

"Like a beanstalk! You know how beanstalks grow and grow?"

Yup, almost fell off the edge of his bed, I was laughing so hard.

Well, my family was appalled. My mil especially. My mil, who can't even say the word "poop" when talking about a dirty diaper; instead, she has to whisper "b.m."

And, forget about actually being able to post my thoughts on anything.

It seems to give my relatives ammunition to criticise every. single. thing. I do.

So, this second blog became my outlet.

Where I don't have to censor myself.

It's very therapeutic for me.

And I just love interacting with other bloggers, so thanks for reading!

Preschool Nightmare

Just when I thought we had it all figured out.







All the issues with Bear like this or that.







And now we are MOVING.







Far, far away.







Even I can't justify a 12 hour drive to get my kids to their perfect-fit preschools.







So, I've been calling preschools near our new home to try to find spots for them.







Concerned about Monkey, who will start kindergarten next year.







Concerned about Bear, who needs a little extra help.







They need a freaking preschool.







All you preschool admissions/directors/teachers/gatekeepers-who-won't-let-anyone-in, let me clue you in.







The following phrases are NOT helpful:







Our registration took place in January/February. (thanks, so did the registration for the preschools my boys currently attend)







Preschools around here fill up fast. (They do up here, too. I was on top of things up here and didn't expect this crazy move)







There are 5(6, 7, 8, 9, 10+) children ahead of yours on our waiting list, would you care to add them to it? (What would be the f'in point in that?)







But, the one that really sent me over the edge, that I have heard from the TWELVE schools I have called, with some variation in the wording, but none in the meaning:







You do realize how important it is to have your child in preschool, don't you? Especially your child who will be in kindergarten next year. You don't want him to be behind.







Yes, thank you! I f'in realize that. This is why I am trying to find somewhere for them to go. Don't you understand that sometimes people have to move? That even though I was responsible and signed my kids up in January for the preschools they attend now, we have to move. And they need a preschool.







I know they can't magically find spots for my children.







I'm just frustrated, getting turned away so many times, for something that I think my kids need.







Editing to say: I have found a preschool that will take both children. It sounds fabulous. Monkey would attend 3 days a week and Bear 2. But, I have to drive them about a half hour away and it costs $310/month total. Yikes. I value education, but we are currently paying a whopping total of $110/month.







I still have a few more on my list to call. Wish me luck!

Wordful Wednesday

I thought I'd give Wordful Wednesday a try this week.

It's already COLD.

Summer was so mild that we rarely had any hot, hot days. It was like summer never really got here. We had days when we had to wear pants and long sleeved shirts. Flannel footie pjs in August.

And "fall"...well, we skipped and seemed to have gone straight into winter.

I hate the cold.

Quite ironic for a girl who grew up in the North, moved to the South for 7 years, and then dragged her husband back to the cold.

It was to be near family, not because of the weather. Even though I tried to tell Hubs it's not so bad.

Hubs, who had never seen more than an inch of snow.

But, in a few short weeks, we are moving from here in the cold North to the coast in the South.

Here is the view from our back deck:

I can so easily picture myself sitting there, reading a book and relaxing.

Can't wait to take my boys for walks on the beach.

Go to sleep with the sounds of the ocean.

No, I certainly will NOT miss the snow.

Family, yes, but who wouldn't want to leave the snow and come visit when they will get that gorgeous view from our new place?

Labels/Warnings

Come play along- it's fun!

This week, I thought I would stick a post-it on each member of my family.

Not really labeling them, but more as a general warning to the world- something you need to know about each one of us.

The first one is for smarty-pants know-it-all Monkey, age 4:

Then for poor 3 year-old Bear(and for my own sake, since I hate dealing with the aftereffects of his chocolate binges):





And for Baby Cub:

One for me, in answer to the question that I ALWAYS get when I'm out, in some shape or form. You have your hands full, don't you?

Then, all I have to do is point to my post-it. Depending on the tone of voice in which you asked the question will determine the finger I use to point to my post-it.

I almost couldn't think of a post-it for dh. I'm in a mood where I feel the need to spew verbal vomit about it, so narrowing it down was hard for me, even though, yes, I do love him.

I decided to go with this, even though everyone could probably figure this out without the post-it.

Maybe if I smack it on his forehead, it will make me feel better.

MEme Monday: Friends Edition

Suphamommy and MommyBrain came up with some fun Friends-themed prompts for us to choose from this week.




I decided to go with: Your favorite episode of Friends, Why?



Because it takes me back to freshmen year of college.



I went to a Serious College where we were Serious Students.



We studied. all. the. time.



There was no drinking, no intermingling of the sexes, not even cable tv.



What we had was a tiny little 10in tv with rabbit ears and were lucky enough to have a room on the right side of the quad to be able to pick up reception of TWO channels.



All week, my two roommates and I would talk about what work would need to be done in order for us each to have the time to be able to watch Friends and the other good Thursday night shows.



It was the only night that we watched tv.



There were only 2 other rooms on our hall that got good reception.



So, we always had a crowd in with us, watching Friends.



Snacks galore and everyone completely riveted by the Ross/Rachel will-they-or-won't-they? plot line.



Best episode: The One Where Ross and Rachel First Kiss(technically known as The One Where Ross Finds Out...but that's stupid- you wouldn't know what the heck episode I was talking about if I said that)





We had a crowd in our room and the other 2 good tv reception rooms on the hall were packed...I don't think anyone on our hall was anywhere else that night.





The anticipation. Everyone holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen.





The "NOOOOOOOO!" you heard when Ross walked out of the coffee shop on Rachel.





And then the screaming that could be heard all down the hall when he came back and kissed her.





You would have thought it was the most exciting thing in all our lives.





Though...thinking back to freshmen year...before I discovered that there were people who drank on our "dry" campus....before I figured out how to sneak into the guys' side of the dorms(that sounds slutty, but really, it wasn't)....and before our school got cable our senior year....





That episode probably was the highlight of our year.





Oh, and in case you were wondering: I'm totally the female version of Chandler.

I dude it by mine own self

This is Bear's latest catchphrase.

Practically anytime I try to help him with anything.

I know it comes with the territory of being 3.

Trying to be independent.

But, I look at all of my kids and wonder when they suddenly could do so much on their own.

Simple things, like Monkey not having to hold my hand or be wedged in between my body and the truck as I get his brothers unbuckled.

When he was just a tiny little toddler and I was trying to get his baby brother out, I would stress and pretty much squish his little body as I would unbuckle the baby.

But, now, he can unbuckle himself and though I still remind him to stay right by the truck as I get out the others, it no longer causes me complete anxiety.

I don't remember when that happened.

When it went from my having to do things for them, to the stage where I was only helping them, to the stage where they can dude it by mine own self.

Monkey being able to play outside alone in the fenced-in yard while I watch from the window. Bear going potty alone or getting himself dressed. Even Cub...climbing all over everything and being perfectly fine doing that without any assistance from me.

It's a lot less stressful to know that my kids can do some things without me; to know that I am not responsible for every last little thing that they need to get done, that they can get some things done on their own.

But, it's also a little sad.

My $6 Shower

Hubs is out of town.



He left early Thursday morning and will be back late Monday night.



So, to give myself a little bit of peace and quiet during a time when I'm not completely exhausted- I don't count after the boys are in bed, since I have enough energy to walk to the fridge and get snacks and then plop in front of the tv- I decided to take the boys to the gym with me and take advantage of the childwatch room.

The boys love it anyway, so they get excited to go there. My kids are the ones crying on the way OUT of the room, not into it.

After reading this great post on Baby Bunching a few weeks ago, I thought I'd be honest about what I really did with my time at the gym.

I could have made a little bit of time to actually exercise. Even if it was just a half hour. But, I didn't.

I should have been organized enough to bring my swimsuit to go into the whirlpool and sauna. Damn, I really should have thought about that.

But, what I did do....was to take a shower.

A nice, long 30 minute long shower.

Where I managed to wash and condition my hair.

I even shaved.

If you can believe it, I even had time to exfoliate.

I came out of the shower feeling like a new woman. And it didn't bother me that while I was showering, there were other women coming in and out of the shower, taking their quick little 3 minute showers to rinse off their sweat from their workouts.

Well, I would have been bothered if there weren't individual shower stalls with curtains.

But, it was okay that they were coming in and out and I was the crazy lady who wouldn't leave the shower.

After my shower, I moisturized(like I ever have time to do that!) and then sat in my towel on a bench, reading my book for about 10 minutes.

Partly because I actually could do this and partly because I have obnoxiously thick hair that it is pointless to even attempt to blow dry as soon as I get out of the shower.

Then, I hogged one of the blow dryers for about 15 minutes or so.

Finally got dressed and considered reading more of my book, but I figured it was a miracle that I hadn't heard my name over the speaker system to come deal with some problem with one of my kids, so I should probably go get the kiddos.

So, now, I'm CLEAN and refreshed, all for the bargain price of $6: $2 per child to be watched while I showered.

No, I'm not going to add in our monthly membership fee of $75, even though this is the only time either Hubs or I have been to the gym this month.

But, for the bargain price of $6, maybe I need to do this more often.

I should be skinny

My boys eat everything in sight...which includes whatever it is that I am trying to eat. So, if I rarely get to eat, I should be skinny, right?

Chasing(and I mean literally) after three boys between the ages of 1 and 4...that should be enough exercise, right?

And yet, I still can't lose this dang baby weight from baby #3, who is now 16 months old.

Baby 1 and Baby 2, it all came off...I was a little "softer" in certain areas, but the weight came off. And with very little effort from me- no crazy diets and only a bit of exercise, by the time they were each 6 or 7 months old, it was gone.

Baby #3...nope, not budging.

I think it's karma or something. All my friends who have three or more kids all told me that it was the third that did them in.

And I rolled my eyes, thinking yeah, right, it all came off with the first two, I don't believe you. I'm going to be different.

Ha. Once again, shows how little I know.

Holding My Breath

Whenever the phone rings and it is the boys' peds office, especially after one of them has been to the lab to have bloodwork done, I hold my breath as I answer.

Hold my breath, close my eyes in concentration, the hand that isn't holding the phone is all balled up.

And I stay like that until I hear whose voice is on the other end of the line.

Nurse= good news, no problems
Doctor= bad news, problems, complications, something that will make me cry

Thankfully, we have been getting good news all around healthwise, particularly with Bear, who is our one who gave us quite the scare a few months ago.

But, all it takes is just once getting bad news and you start to brace yourself for it every single time.

Post-its: Kickin' Ass

If you are offended by the word "ass," you might as well stop reading now. I decided that all of this week's post-its are for people who either need to kick some ass or to have their asses kicked(figuratively speaking, of course, with one possible exception...but I'll leave that to you to decide)

Soundtrack of My Life MEme

Playing along again with Supahmommy and MommyBrain for their MEme Mondays. Check over at their sites to play along!

If your life were a movie, what songs would be on the soundtrack?



This was so hard for me...because I couldn't narrow it down. I've always thought of my life in terms of having a soundtrack. And there are many songs that, the instant that I hear them, I can clearly recall a memory associated with them, ex. Might as well be walking on the sun...instantly back in college, at a bar with my roomie slamming her fists down on the table and screaming out that line...and the crazy night that followed. And no, you're not getting that story out of me, uh-uh.



I thought about being sappy, with There Goes My Life by Kenny Chesney or You're Gonna Miss This by Trace Adkins or The Dance by Garth Brooks.



And then I thought about being funny like Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old by Garth Brooks or try to convince you that Dancin' For the Groceries by Kenny Chesney was my life.



But, instead, I decided to go by stages of my life. And, if you are not a country music person, I'm sorry- you probably won't have a clue about any of these songs...but they are all awesome and you should go listen to them.



Stage 1: Young woman eager to get out into the big world and make something of herself, striking out on her own to "find herself." I actually sang this song in the car a la Jerry Maguire singing Free Falling as I was moving far, far away from everyone I knew.

Song and Artist: Wide Open Spaces by The Dixie Chicks

Most telling lyric: To find a dream and a life of their own, a place in the clouds, a foundation of stone...She needs wide open spaces, room to make the big mistakes...



Stage 2: Angry young woman, tired of being stereotyped by the people around her, who weren't actually taking the time to see who she really is, to see that she really does dance

Song and Artist: She Doesn't Dance by Mark McGuinn

Most telling lyric: (sorry about this, I have to list the whole chorus) She doesn't dance and she hates dark smokey places, she doesn't own any fancy high heel shoes or short sexy dresses, her hair would be up the way that I love, never so down and crazy, believe me I know my baby, and she doesn't dance



Stage 3: Woman happily in love with her husband. This was actually our wedding song and it holds true now. Through all our ups and downs, we do know that we will last.

Song and Artist: All the Way by Lonestar

Most telling lyric: Every day, I'll be here loving you all through the years, and it's true, there's so much freedom in knowing how sure we are that we're going all the way



Stage 4: Mommy madly in love with her little boys and wanting the best for them...a stage that, like stage 3, keeps on going

Song and Artist: My Wish by Rascal Flatts

Most telling lyric: My wish for you is that your life becomes all that you want it to



Stage 5: Woman realizing that, to hell with what other people think, I am who I am, I want what I want, and if you don't like it, well....

Song and Artist: Settlin' by Sugar Land

Most telling lyric: I ain't settlin' for just getting by, I've had enough so-so for the rest of my life....I ain't settlin' for anything less than everything



Woo-hoo! Such a fun MEme! Thanks for stopping by and sorry if any of these songs are now stuck in your head. And, if you don't know any of them, go listen to them!

*Editing to add that I really thought about deleting all of these songs and simply listing Kenny Chesney's I'm alive to cover everything. But, I still had to throw that little tidbit in there, due to my love of Kenny.

Seriously, I Love Hubs

Thanks to Chief, for making me take a serious moment this Sunday.




Usually, when I mention Hubs, it's to complain about him. How he isn't home. How he has no clue how much work I actually do. How clueless he is when it comes to anything to do with the boys. His golfing, poker-playing, soccer-lovin', laze-on-the-couch self.





But, really, I love him.





He loves me.





We have a strong marriage.





It wasn't always this way.





Shortly after the honeymoon phase wore off, we started thinking like emotional little kids: I don't know if I'm in love any more. You don't make me happy. I want something else.





And, we almost threw our marriage away to try to chase something that made us happier.





Thankfully, we wised up before we did anything drastic.





We realized that love is a decision. It's a choice you have to make over and over again, to continue loving your spouse. To work on your marriage.





That you might not always feel that madly-passionately-in-love feeling all the time.





But, that that's okay.




As long as you continue to make the decision to be there for each other and to work on it.



That feeling can come back.


Love is a decision. It's emotion, yes, but we've come to realize that's not just heart, but head, too.

Thank you!

A big thanks to MommyBrain who made my button and blog header for me and showed me how to do the cool scrolling thing with a bunch of your buttons!

Maybe b.c.(before children), I could have figured something like that out, but 3 kids later, I'm lucky I can walk and chew gum at the same time.

Too Big

I still haven't given up my glider. I love holding my boys, rocking back and forth, and rubbing their little backs.

For the past 5 years, I've had a little boy whose head fit under my chin while I rocked him, so that I could rest my chin on his head. Monkey was a little older and still able to have it be that way, since my gigantic pregnant belly forced him to sit farther away. Then, Bear and Cub quickly followed.

But, this morning, as I was rocking Cub, I realized that his head now rests on my shoulder.

I can do some weird and painful contortion so that I can still get my chin on his little head, but it's just not the same.

He's too big for that.

My BABY.

My last little guy.

And NO, don't tell me that I can always have another. Three is enough for us.

And Hubs had the big snip-snip 2 months ago to ensure that three is all we have.

I knew it would hit me at some point that there will be no more babies in this house. All it took was no more resting my chin on a little baby head while we rock.

Sniffle, sniffle.

More Preschool Garbage

Bear has been successfully moved to a new preschool. I feel so much better about it.

After drop-off, the teacher turns the keys in the door and none of the kids can leave! So, he's safe.

And, with this program being academic-based instead of play-based, they move right from one activity to the next, without all the down time that was happening in his other class. So, he's able to focus better.

It was a real p.i.t.a. to have to pay yet another registration fee, but it's worth it.

If it wouldn't interfere with Cub's nap schedule, I would move Monkey there, too. Monkey's class is not crazy like Bear's was, but he is bored. He is constantly asking his teacher why the other kids don't already know this stuff(whatever the "stuff" is that they happen to be working on) and wants to know why the teacher tells them things more than once since I know how to do that, you already told us. And, he's starting to correct the other kids and get annoyed with them. Yikes.

But, if I move him, it means that 3 days a week, Cub will either not get a nap at all or just get one in the truck for about an hour or two.

Really, Monkey can do fine where he is and I know he is learning from his class. He's just not being challenged.

I feel a little bad, jumping through hoops to be sure that Bear is in the best preschool for him, and yet I let Cub's need for a nap to dictate where/when Monkey goes to preschool.

I can never find a balance of keeping things fair.